


Little Did He Know

by coaster



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: All-New All-Different Marvel, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Second Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaster/pseuds/coaster
Summary: After the Multiverse reforms itself, Steve and Tony share a proper second kiss.~Except they never shared a first kiss...?





	

**Author's Note:**

> (Where've I been, huh??)
> 
> This was written for the 'Mistaken Identity' square of my Cap/Iron Man bingo card!
> 
> This takes place at the very beginning of the All-New All-Different runs, and after Steve was zapped back to his young self, and before the, uh, HYDRA development. This assumes the HYDRA thing never happened and everything is fluff and rainbows.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy! :D

 

In many ways, kissing Tony was a re-enactment of their entire tumultuous history. The turbulent times where one or the both of them had been presumed dead. The highs and lows of them forming and breaking the Avengers again and again. The crushing pain of betrayals and divides.

It was in the way Tony fought for control, lips insistent and molding Steve’s to his own; the way he tugged at Steve’s back, the way he pulled Steve’s hands to wrap around his hip, and the way he directed Steve’s probing tongue with his own.

It was in the way Tony withdrew and let Steve chase after him, mouth open and inviting but spine stiff, guarded and hiding; the way Steve stroked his hands down Tony’s back, offering safety, offering support.

It was in the way Steve caught the beginnings of ferocity of Tony’s passion, lips bitten until they were swollen, fighting and fighting until Tony had his way and Steve was left helpless in the trails of his blaze; the way Steve had to battle for control, repaying each heated stroke of tongue with an answering nip from his teeth, tempering and tempering until they found a rhythm once again.

It was in the small breaks in their kiss, when they both withdrew, needing to breathe but still addicted to the same air that passed between them; the way they dove back in a clash of teeth and tongue because they couldn’t be long without each other anyway, personal and galactic wars be damned.

It was in the way Tony fell into Steve’s arms, open but apologetic, lips seeking and seeking for something he didn’t know he’d missed; the way Steve clung on even tighter, pressing himself into Tony, tasting the apology between their lips, accepting that there was a part of Tony forever missing from one of their memories, promising with flicks of tongue that one of them would remember enough for the both of them.

It was in the way Tony kept his hands firmly on Steve’s chest, a barrier between them, keeping the distance just wide enough, keeping a part of himself somewhere away from Steve; the way Steve took Tony’s hands by the wrists, planting them at the vulnerable skin of his neck, telling Tony to _trust him_. To _stop hiding_.

It was in the way Tony let Steve thumb the vulnerable inside of his wrist, in the way he wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, fire and determination leading his lips, offering himself by giving and giving; the way Steve took and took, letting his mouth be mapped and stroked until the heat broke through the numbness and he pushed back, violent and sharp.

It was in the way Tony didn’t back away, fighting back and matching every ferocious bite with more teeth and nails, too ferocious for his Tony, until something—something hot and searing bloomed between them, whiting out the world around them as they grabbed and pushed and pulled themselves into something different, something new.

And in many other ways, kissing Tony was as familiar to Steve as breathing, as walking. Kissing Tony was safety and it was home.

It was in the way Tony opened his armor for Steve’s hands, the panels sliding away in hexagons of vibrant reds and golds to reveal a lithe body beneath; the way Steve could find the exact places on Tony he could rest his hands, and the way Tony pressed himself into the touch, offering without a second thought.

It was in the way Tony knew to pull at Steve’s hair just right to make him gasp. It was in the way Steve knew to press just under Tony’s jaw to make him moan; the way Tony let Steve support his entire weight, knowing Steve would never let him fall; the way Steve lean on Tony in return, knowing there would always be hands there to catch him.

It was in the way Steve could steer Tony backwards to press him against the nearest wall; the way Tony closed his eyes and let himself be guided, hands running heatedly across Steve’s waist to pull them closer together; the way Tony opened his mouth for Steve, and the way he pressed into Steve like he was giving Steve new life with his breath and the beating of his heart.

It was all this, and all in the way they came together again and again, in the dance of lips and tongue, the play of hands on skin and hair, so familiar yet novel. It reflected a lifetime and it spelled a future.

It was a promise in the way they both separated, lips clinging and pulling apart, but plunged right back in with a plea to stay. It was the promise of a place to belong, a place for a new beginning, and a place for happiness to finally, finally take root.

 

* * *

 

Steve felt the prickly bristles of Tony’s beard and mustache brush along his skin as Tony withdrew. His breath hitched at the thought of getting more beard burn in the near future and maybe also in the far future if he was going to be honest with himself.

“That was much better than the first time we did this,” Tony whispered against his lips.

Steve nodded, not surprised in the least that Tony did remember the first time. They hadn’t been together then, and they hadn’t gotten together after it, but it had been one of those things Steve often thought back on. He had always wondered what might have happened if he’d taken that extra step further, if he had only just asked Tony for a date. Just a single date, a single chance, before everything had fallen apart around their ears.

They could've prevented so much pain.

He tore his thoughts away from his regrets and looked down at Tony’s lips. They were parted slightly, reddened and shiny. He gave in to the urge to touch and reached forward to feel their kiss-softened warmth beneath the pad of his thumb.

“Your lips were cold back then,” Steve said.

“So were yours,” Tony countered.

“It was still nice,” Steve continued. Subjectively nice, of course. Objectively, it had been terrible.

“It was very nice,” Tony said, nodding. His tongue darted out to flick at Steve’s thumb. “Could have lasted more than half a second, though.”

“You could have stayed in the bed with me—“

“You fell on me like a log and then ran off—“

Steve’s mind ground to a halt at the words. He drew back and stared intently into Tony’s eyes. “What did you say happened?”

“What?” Tony said at the same time.

Steve continued to stare at Tony and Tony stared right back at Steve.

“Party at Avengers Tower after Kang,” Tony said slowly, eyes narrowing.

Steve nodded and squeezed at Tony’s shoulders, indicating for him to continue.

“I fell asleep on the couch and I woke up when you more or less fell on me. I—uh.” Tony's eyes darted to the side before flashing back to Steve. “I thought it was you and I kissed you except you rolled onto the ground and just left me there." He didn’t move away from beneath Steve’s hands but Steve could feel him tensing up with every word.

“It couldn't be me," Steve said quickly, hoping to diffuse the tension in Tony's shoulders and the tightness in the corners of his eyes. "I took up a guest room after they turned the music off. “I was sleeping, and then you - or someone I thought was you - crawled onto the bed. Onto me.”

Steve looked away from Tony and tried to recall the night, but all he could see in his mind was the silhouette he’d thought was Tony, the weight of the body above him, the barest brush of cold lips, and most of all the disappointment that followed when the weight left him with a barely audible mumble of an apology. And nothing had ever been acknowledged. Until now.

“I—I kissed you,” Steve confessed. “I thought it was you and I was hoping…” he trailed off, unsure if he could just say it to Tony after all. He frowned, though, as more memories of that night came to him - discrepancies he chose to ignore. “It does explain the lack of beard.”

“Hoping?” Tony prompted.

Steve sighed. Right. That. “I was hoping we could have taken it further. Worked on it. Worked on us.”

Steve waited for Tony’s reply, watching Tony's eyes carefully, trying to read the reactions in them as he’d always been able to. There was uncertainty there – the same uncertainty that was always present when Tony revealed too much of his deepest secrets. The same uncertainty that had been in Tony’s eyes the morning after at the breakfast table, when Steve had hoped and hoped one of them would have just said something. As Steve continued to watch, he saw the uncertainty in Tony’s eyes give way to something like understanding, hope, and then finally joy.

“I was hoping the same,” Tony said at last.

Steve felt his own shoulders crick from relief and he huffed. “We could have saved ourselves all the trouble. I can’t believe someone else took our supposed first kiss.”

Tony laughed and moved in to wrap his arms back around Steve’s waist, mouth hovering close to Steve’s again, teasing. “In that case, this was a hell of an actual first kiss.” He licked his lips, eyes twinkling. “Wanna beat the record?”

Steve grinned. “You bet."

And it was also a hell of an actual second kiss.

 

* * *

 

_Avengers Tower, late at night, a very long time and an entire multiverse ago._

Clint’s head was pounding like the ruckus of an underground fight club. He rummaged through the freezer for something cold and his hands closed over a bag of peas. Good enough. He extracted the peas, hoping Jarvis wouldn’t kill him in the morning, and plonked it onto the side of his face to ward off the swelling and pain.

This was going to be the last time he let himself be called out by Kate after already having partied literally onto the roof with a bunch of rowdy Avengers. It absolutely did not surprise him that he ended up in a fight with some hooligans over something completely stupid. It absolutely did surprise him that one of the hooligans had physical enhancements and managed to get a punch in before they locked him down and gave him a telling off.

God, he just wanted to lie down somewhere and let the frozen peas do their thing. He made his way through the darkened living room by rote. When he was at the large couch, he dropped himself onto it without preamble.

There was a shuffling beneath him and it took him a few precious seconds to realize he’d fallen on top of someone who had already been laid out on the cushions. He rolled around and braced himself over the person, trying to see past his own shadow from the soft light of the kitchen behind him. He glimpsed a head of dark hair. Jess? Second surprise, but at least Jess wasn’t hard on the eyes and wasn’t a Skrull this time…

A hand landed gently on the back of his neck and he thought Jess might have said something. The next thing he, knew before he could respond with something that wouldn’t make a fool of himself, was a pair of warm lips pressed against his.

Okay. Third surprise. Facial hair. Not Jess. He was up for some fun with Jess but this, he hadn’t signed up for.

He broke away and rolled off the person who was not Jess, right onto the floor. He mumbled an apology into the hard wood and groped for his peas, then crawled his way out of the common area to go find his new bedroom.

God, but his head was really pounding.

It took him two attempts to open the door, his mind fuzzy from the punch and from the party high and general tiredness from a job well done. The door swung open and he stumbled in. The kid really did a number on him because he felt so disoriented for a second – everything seemed out of place and his bed wasn’t where he felt it should have been. Nevertheless, he did manage to find it and he sat down, rubbing the melting peas soothingly all over his face and then flopped onto his back.

Fourth surprise. There was someone in his bed and they noticed his presence. He groaned, not wanting to deal with anything other than sleep for the foreseeable twelve hours. He tried to express his thoughts to the person but was stopped by a hand behind his neck for the second time today.

He squinted through the blurriness and the darkness and thought he saw a head of blonde hair. Bobbi? He was popular with the ladies tonight it seemed, and he hadn’t expected Bobbi to be here. Before he could figure out why Bobbi had such a large hand, he was already following the pressure of the hand and lowering himself into another kiss.

Okay. Not Bobbi’s lips. Not Bobbi’s hands. He hadn’t signed up for this either. He pushed himself up and away, then realized he was in the wrong room because everything really was in the wrong place. Okay, he was going to sleep in his own bed now. He mumbled an apology as he left, closing the door as quietly as he could.

In the elevator, he made sure to press the right floor number. And finally in his own bedroom, his last thought as he drifted to sleep was that he probably wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning.

It wasn’t like anything life-changing had happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Semi-inspired by the Friends episode “The One Where The Stripper Cries” wherein Monica and Ross had interesting revelations about their first kisses.
> 
> I'm sorry for putting Clint in this situation but he's the only guy who has the same build and height as both Steve and Tony. I had to make this misunderstanding a little bit plausible after all!
> 
> Thank you for reading! And I'd love to know your thoughts.


End file.
